


Full Circle

by Traeger



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, F/M, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:10:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5613490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traeger/pseuds/Traeger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theirs was a strange love story, like lesser moons that orbited one another around greater planets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Circle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This is for jtav, who has given so much to the fandom.

Grief was no stranger to them. It wasn’t something that ever went away completely. One could try to ignore it, channel it, perhaps even transcend it; but it was there all the same. But it stopped being the torrential flood that threatened to overwhelm the senses, leaving them short of breath every time.

No, grief was an old friend they knew well.

To Asami, grief was reduced to a dull ache now, similar to the one in her ankle that occasionally throbbed when it was going to rain. Age was certainly catching up to her. But today she found herself on the other side; the grief in her heart now did not stem from a loss of her own.

It was sunny that day, almost mockingly so.

 _She knew she’d find him here_.

A small crowd from the left slowly meandered away in the sweltering heat as she approached the solitary figure.

 

**°°°**

 

_A hundred days._

What could a hundred days express where words had failed? What was a hundred days compared to the years they spent together? It was muscle memory now; it came as easily as clipping on his police badge, wrapping the white cloth carefully across his right arm every morning. It came as easily as slipping her badge into his pocket, a protective amulet more potent than any bending form.

For so long he had to be strong, for his family, his friends. And then there were all the broken ones; sometimes nameless, sometimes faceless, sometimes both. The ones who didn’t have people to be strong for them. He had to be strong for them all.

But he was only a man.

For a hundred days the white had marked the black. He stared at the white band in his hands.

Today, it was time to let go.

_He didn’t want to let go._

A shadow fell beside him; he didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“Does it ever go away? Like you’re drowning, and there’s no surface above you can break through?”

The question came out in a thin, cracked voice that did not befit the hard eyes of a man who has seen much – _too much_ – in this lifetime. It was a hollow sound that did not befit the weathered and gaunt face of a man who was once so handsome; the prince of the tales mothers told their daughters of before bedtime, the watchful guardian of the city while they slept.

“You take a deep breath, and you pull yourself out of bed. You do the same the next day. And the next. And the next. And the next. And one day you’ll wake up and realise it’s been four years, seven months and eleven days since.”

Of course she would know.

Mako finally turned to meet the clear green eyes with its crow’s feet set in a face framed by greying hair; a certain air of elegance remained despite the passage of time.

 

**°°°**

 

“I thought we had more time, you know?” He continued quietly. Three weeks later, it would have been his retirement.

“I had the same idea with Korra.”

Asami and Mako had birthdays a month from each other. They had both seen enough excitement between them to last more than one lifetime. The city was their lifeblood, and they poured their energies into holding her together. In different ways perhaps, but it was love all the same.

_Ah, time._

How was it that they survived global threats, even survived nothing less than the end of the world, but forgot to account for time?

For it was time that won out in the end. Just time, and all the other foibles of mundane existence.

It was time that crept up on them and slowly took their family and loved ones away, one after the other. There was no epic showdown, no going out in a final blaze of glory. They left quietly, before their time.

_Before their time._

What did that even mean?

There was no fixed schedule, no rhyme or reason when it came to death. Time didn’t care when it took the most powerful being on Earth, the same way it didn’t care when it now took the non-bender, the tireless public servant who served to the best of her ability to very end, without much of the fanfare that surrounded her husband’s past.

Death had a way of putting things into perspective.

As they stood under the oppressive heat, they weren’t the two of the most influential people of the city they both loved. They weren’t the former CEO of Future Industries Incorporated nor the retired Chief of the Republic City Police Department. They weren’t the princess and the pauper, lives inexplicably changed forever for having met each other.

They were just two friends; past their prime, old, and tired. Two friends joined in the sorrow of losing their loved ones to the capriciousness of life.

 

**°°°**

 

Mako took her advice of breathing and waking up the next day.

The next day soon became three years, ten months and eight days.

In that time, they slowly became each other’s rock. Loss was something they both understood all too well, but little by little they filled the hole with new memories. Shared dinners turned into shared walks in the park. They stayed indoors on rainy days and played Pai Sho. They debated loudly about the latest law reforms and political scandals and complained about the dwindling quality of the massive franchises of Kwang’s Cuisine.

Neither realised that it wasn’t grief anymore when Mako knocked on her door one evening to take her to the latest game of the Airball Championship. It wasn’t grief anymore when Asami fussed over him for not taking his pain medication for his limp. But they were far too old. It was far too late to fall in love again. Or so they told themselves.

**°°°**

Theirs was a strange love story. One that began almost like a fairy tale; crossing paths in an arbitrary yet strange twist of fate. But it was a spark that fizzled out before flame could catch. Both couldn’t love the other; theirs was a story being defined around a figure of lore, of legends passed down from generation to generation. But Korra was very much real, and very much human as she lit the fires in both their hearts. She, who made her choice in the end.

Their relationship was tossed around in a tumultuous whirlpool of bad decisions borne of youth before it settled down to a firm bond of friendship as they both found their anchors in people who were not one another. They had both loved, and lost, and grew.

It was a bumpier ride for Mako, but he knew he had only himself to blame _._ He wasn’t going to make the same mistake the third time. _He would be better, to and for the next person_ , he had told himself.

And for the next thirty-five years of his life, he was. In the eyes of the woman who became his wife, he was more than the hero who inadvertently caused a citywide panic, and nothing less than the man who helped rescue her during the Equalist uprisings.

 

**°°°**

 

He turned up at her doorstep one windy evening.

“I love you, Asami Sato.” Mako said without any sort of preamble the moment she opened the door. His voice was clear and firm.

Declarations of love between them were never out of place, even if they were rare occurrences. They were playful exchanges in questionable states of sobriety. Bolin and Korra were usually involved.

In her entire life, he had never said it to her the way he said it now. There might have been a time she wanted him to, but that seemed to have been in a different lifetime altogether.

Asami stared at him. “Have you been drinking?”

“No.” He was wearing his full police uniform, hair neatly combed back.

 _Fresh from a funeral_. How many of those did they have to attend before their own came in the unknowable future?

Mako couldn’t believe how he didn’t see it before. If he did, he had tried denying it. _He still loved his wife._ But it took a heart attack to claim the life of an ex-colleague to make him see light about his friend who once slammed into him into the dirt with her blasted moped.

She was no longer the girl who turned him into an incoherent mess, but he was no longer the fickle boy who kept taking without giving any back either. He still had enough life in him to make one last mistake. If life had taught him anything, it was that he was getting too old for regrets.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know before it was too late.”

She continued staring at him as though he was mad.

Then, in a bold move that surprised the both of them, she pulled him inside by the collar of his shirt and closed the door behind them.

Asami dreamt of Korra that night.

 

**°°°**

 

_The bright spirit portal glowed in the distance, illuminating the city skyline that surrounded it. The city she had rebuilt over and over again, until it became a sum greater than its parts. It’s been a while since she’s seen it from this angle. From the steps leading to the dock on Air Temple Island. The last time she did, she was –_

_“Shamelessly making out with me.” A dear, dear voice – one that couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else – said cheerfully to her right._

_“Korra?”_

_It was unmistakably her. Bright blue eyes brimming with life, her easy lopsided grin causing her to catch her breath. There she sat, whole again, and so beautiful._

_“You’re not half-bad yourself, Ms Sato.” Wait, how was she–?_

_“I’m dreaming again, aren’t I?” Asami glanced down at herself. She was young again – both of them were – the skin of her hands smooth and soft to the touch. The red dress she was wearing was her favourite, because it was Korra’s too. Korra gazed at her fondly._

_“Looks like it. Is it just me, or are you misremembering the size of these?” Korra idly traced a finger along her own bicep as she flexed. “Not that I’m complaining.” She winked._

_“I’ve missed you, Korra.”_

_“I miss you, too.” Her eyes softened as she cupped Asami’s cheek and brought their faces closer together. Asami’s pulse quickened as her eyes fluttered closed. Their lips met. She tasted like the Korra she knew so well; her scent felt like home. She wanted to hold on to this moment forever, but part of her knew it was only all in her head._

_“Doesn’t mean it isn’t real.” Korra whispered against her lips. And it felt real. The warmth of her arms around her again, her steady rhythm of her heartbeat against her own._

_But wait…Mako–_

_“Ah, now we’ve come to the heart of the matter.” Korra murmured as they broke apart. Her eyes held nothing but understanding as she nodded sagely. “You feel guilty that you love him, too.”_

_Asami hesitated for a long moment. “That’s the thing. I... don’t. I love him, but I don’t feel guilty about it. And that feels wrong.”_

_“Why?”_

_“It shou- I should, because…because –”_

_“Because what?”_

_“Because I still love you, Korra!” She nearly screamed._

_To her surprise, Korra’s grin only widened._

_“I still love you too, Asami.” Korra took both her hands in hers and kissed them in turn gently. “And I always will. Nothing will change that. Your love for Mako doesn’t diminish your love for me anymore than his love for you diminishes his love for his dead wife.”_

_“I…I don’t understand. Can’t you see what I’m doing?”_

_She shook her head. “You’re not replacing me, Asami. Not to brag, but I’m pretty much one of a kind.”_

_Korra laughed again before her tone turned serious. “Listen, I once loved Mako and he once did me, too. It wasn’t the same one that you and I share, but there are parts of us that never did stop loving each other, in our own way. It wasn’t lesser, wasn’t more than what I feel for you. Loving someone else doesn’t mean what we had wasn’t real, or that it meant less somehow. Just because I’m gone doesn’t mean our love went the same way.”_

_Asami glanced down at their clasped hands. She dreamt of this moment so many times before. But all this was just a figment of her own imagination, right?_

_“Maybe. But you know more than anyone else that those we love don’t really die, do they? Me being here is proof enough.” Korra, or whoever she was projecting on, was right._

_“If you asked me, the world is big enough to give and receive a little more love.” Korra kissed her again on her forehead. “We’ve had a good run, you and me. You still have so many years ahead of you; I’m just so glad you’re still able to find happiness after I left.”_

_Then she suddenly frowned and bopped Asami on the nose, hard._

_“What was that for??”_

_“I can’t believe Mako realised this sooner than you did. Mako, the guy who, at one stage, was as in touch with his feelings as a teaspoon, for crying out loud.”_

 

 **°°°** _  
_

 

Asami woke up with a start, but the arm around her only tightened comfortingly and pulled her closer. Their hearts had belonged to others, but there was enough space left for this.

 _This._ Whatever this was; it wasn’t just an attempt to fill up loneliness that came from grief. It was something new, but it was also familiar. The thought had terrified them both. It might have made them cowards in the past, but they were here now.

She listened to the way the wind continued howling outside, to the rhythm of his chest rising and falling against her back. _It was incredible; they were both still alive_ , she thought as she drifted back to sleep.

 

**°°°**

 

_The new Avatar has been found._

In the Old City of Zaofu, of all places. To them it was still just Zaofu, having first experienced it in a different era.

_All of them had been young once._

“Are you ready for this?” Mako asked quietly, sensing her uneasiness.

“I don’t know.”

They were running very late. Of course, they could have just taken the direct express magtrain but a road trip had sounded more adventurous. They took turns to drive on the long stretches of endless road. Thankfully, there were no air pirates to ambush them this time.

_Those certainly were the days._

A few false turns and exits had caused them to occasionally wander off-path. They took a short detour when a young waterbender hitched a ride to a neighbouring town.

Asami briefly wondered if it was a subconscious delaying tactic on their end.

Rebirth had a tendency to wipe the slate clean; there was no way of knowing what became of old friends and old loves. But no one had told them how to deal with this. How their lives would be so intertwined with the one person in the entire world who was the exception to that rule, and how they would live to see that day.

It was very late when they finally arrived, with the sun nearly setting on the horizon. They hadn’t told anyone they would come, even though news had reached them as soon as the discovery was made.

Asami shut the engine off and turned to him. “I love you, Mako.” Whatever they’d find next, this wouldn’t change. _Korra would have been proud of her._

He smiled, and reached out to take her hand in his. “I love you, too.” They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes longer. When they finally got out of the car, they took their time, wincing when an old joint creaked. They began walking, hands still clasped together, along the smooth stone path lined on one side with a short brick wall.

“Huh.” Mako mumbled.

“What is it?”

“I…uh…lost the paper I wrote the address on.”

She chuckled, and looked around for someone to ask for directions. They only needed to walk a little further before finding someone. Sitting on the brick wall was a boy about eight or nine years old, facing towards the distance. A small, rudimentary wheelchair stood at the side.

“Hello? I was wondering if you could help us.” Asami called out. The boy turned his head to glance at them, before lifting his arms by his sides slightly, fists clenched. He made a short twisting motion. The brick beneath him rose and rotated, so that he was facing them, before the brick settled back into its place. His legs dangled lifelessly below him. Beneath a messy shock of black hair, amber eyes stared at them from a face that had clear Water Tribe ancestry.

Mako was grudgingly impressed, but couldn’t help but feel that the kid was showing off. It reminded him of someone he once knew, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. _Brash, passionate, and so full of life._

“Do you know if there’s someone named Pingheng who lives nearby?”

“Who’s asking?” The boy asked with the precociousness of every nine-year-old. He peered at them curiously, eyes flicking from one to the other. Suddenly, he exclaimed excitedly, “Wait…I know you! You’re Asami Sato!”

“Sixty-nine years old and I still have to fend off competitors,” Mako grumbled, but there was no heat behind his words.

Asami slapped his shoulder lightly with her free hand. “Oh, shush.” She turned back to the child who couldn’t seem to contain his excitement.

“You’re from Republic City and you were the one who built the magnetic train! And the one who designed that super cool Sato RX 3! Mum reads me some of your engineering articles sometimes. When I grow up, I wanna be just like you!” He grinned giddily.

She blushed slightly under the attention. Over the years, people had showered her with praise and accolades for her various achievements. But none felt more earnest than this boy’s unbridled enthusiasm. It reminded her of a girl she once knew, on discovering she had run into a star athlete she long admired from afar.

The boy now waved his arms and he sort of…tumbled into his wheelchair with an agility that made the two of them wince. Acrobatics was best left to the immortality of youth. But there was no mistaking the breeze that whipped their clothes and hair. It took them a moment, but Mako squeezed her hand in response as his eyes widened with the revelation. Her breath caught.

“You’re the Avatar, and I’m an idiot.” Mako murmured softly, but his words carried in the wind.

“Both are true.”

Pingheng frowned slightly. “That wasn’t nice…I don’t know why I said that. But anyway– come on, I want you guys to meet my parents. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers but I feel like you two are my friends already. Sometimes you just…know, you know?” He began wheeling himself, glancing back occasionally to see they followed him.

Asami and Mako looked at each other, and shared a quiet smile.

Yes, yes they knew.

 

**°°°**

 

Love was no stranger to them. It wasn’t something that ever went away completely. One could try to ignore it, channel it, perhaps transcend it; but it was there all the same. But it stopped being the torrential flood that threatened to overwhelm the senses, leaving them short of breath every time.

No, love was an old friend they knew well.

**Author's Note:**

> The hundred days of Mako refers to, the white armband, and black clothes are adapted from a combination of both Japanese and Chinese mourning practices.


End file.
